


Closing Time

by wickedrum



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is John Bosworth’s last night of freedom before having to report for his four years of incarceration in a Federal Correctional Institution in the morning. His point of call is his old office at Cardiff where he has a couple of things to take care of. Set: Middle of season 1 finale, the night after the coders jump ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yours Truly

**Author's Note:**

> John Bosworth has made a long journey: from sitting comfortably behind his desk barely moving a muscle bar for licking up to Cardiff, to defending Joe in a physical confrontation at a strip club and taking the fall for the sake of all, confessing to fraud and hacking. If he’s involved so much it’s because he cares, right?

Disclaimers: Lee Pace, be mine. Okay, pull the other one. This is for enjoyment only.  
Genre: H/C; Friendship. Traditional SICKFIC where the plot suffers for the sake of the genre.  
Pairing: Eventual Joe/Cameron.   
Warning: Unless you like pure, unadulterated hurt/comfort for the sake of it, it’s unlikely you will understand the point to this fic. Grounded in my stomach fetish.   
Mood: Tired.

Chapter 1: Yours Truly

John Bosworth was taking his time making it up to level 5 where Cardiff Electric’s executive offices were. Despite what he knew they’ve accomplished and was proud to have had a part in, nothing much changed in the appearance of the building or interior furnishings, something that was surely going to be altered soon to complement the company’s new-fangled status and impress valued visitors. But for the time being, turning corners and pressing the faded number on the elevator button felt very familiar, as did the feeling of belonging and bittersweet contentment that hit him despite circumstances while ambling through the empty hall of developers towards his former office. He will not spend much time there, he was just hoping Joe didn’t change his desk either, nor opened the secret compartment under the table top.

Mercifully, the door was not locked. Not that it ever has been, but John wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the new vice president who had obviously followed him on the ladder. He had found the discreet side lights switch as well and was not majorly surprised either to sight Joe sleeping on his couch. John had done it many times himself. Ignoring the presence, he walked over to the bureau, his well versed hands going to the exact spot the small compartment hid. It was intact and he had the keys.

Joe shifted at the sound of jingling and brought a hand up to his eyes, peeking out from under them suspiciously. “John?” He asked, taken aback.

“I’m surprised you never opened this,” the old school businessman sat down on his old chair, having dislodged his box of possessions from under the desk. “You did know it was there, right?”

“I didn’t think whatever you keep there would be of much importance to the company’s present and future,” Joe sat up with a groan, rubbing his temples. “Dirty laundry from before my arrival should stay in the washing basket.” 

“It’s not dirty laundry,” John turned the box in his hands, content with its feel in his possession and leaned back to appreciate the moment. It was almost like old times when he ran the place and no arrogant surrogate executive was spitting in his lukewarm, but pleasant tasting soup. There was a time when there was no need to set things on fire, but the ex senior vice president had recently come round to appreciate triumphing in matters that he thought very unlikely to happen before. “Congratulations on securing a market for the Giant by the way. Do you have any of my old bourbon left so we can celebrate?”

“It’s there,” Joe made a noncommittal gesture, “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” John stepped to his drinks cabinet and opened it, “it’s my last night of freedom for a while,” he poured some of the amber liquid into a glass and held it up towards Joe questioningly, “sure you don’t want to join me?”

The younger man shook his head, “’m sorry, too tired,” he mumbled. He didn’t look like he’d properly woken up, still.

“Well, didn’t I tell you people not to live in the office!” His ex boss admonished, “at least the girl doesn’t, now.” He settled back into his chair with his drink. Joe blinked at him as if pained, biting the inside of his lip. His expression confused the balding man, not to mention the lack of word vomit, cockiness and attitude. “For somebody who has just achieved their goal for coming here, pulling everything to pieces to do so, you don’t look overly pleased.” Then on a hunch, he added, “where’s Cameron?” 

Joe leaned forward, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Let me guess, she had her own ideas?” John laughed deeply, tickled and somewhat satisfied, then furrowed his brows intrigued when the other suddenly jumped to dash into the wastepaper basket’s direction and threw up. “I thought you didn’t drink?” The older man commented. 

“I don’t,” Joe grumbled, wearisomely making his way back to the couch with the bucket and flopping down to lie down, visitor be damned. He groaned, despite himself, curling his arms around his midsection.

John raised his eyebrows. “I take the fall so I can see my company succeed. I come here out of nostalgia and see the individual responsible for the way my life turned out miserable and sick. I should be happy, right?” He quipped. 

“And you’re not?” The younger man sighed. He was too dizzy for this conversation.

“I’d still like to strangle Nathan for pulling the funding when it really mattered and offering me up as sacrificial lamb as if working for him and earning his ready money for 23 years meant nothing. Which is why I want to ask you, any way you have some more tricks up your sleeves that would do him in for good?...Joe?” He inquired a bit disconcerted now that the only answer he got was some more retching into the basket. “Son, I have to present myself at the gates of the West Tower Detention Facility in a few hours, I don’t have time for this,” he stood to near the ailing man, curious.“Is this contagious? Would be a nice howdy present for the other inmates.”

“I really don’t feel good,” Joe established, though he seemed to be talking more to himself than anybody else. 

“No shit.” John deadpanned, then rolled his eyes, “I can’t believe I’m spending the last few hours of my freedom hauling your sneaky bastard ass home.” He shook his head, sighing.

Tbc


	2. Sluggish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t! Don’t.” The balding man steadied the other, seeing how dangerously close Joe came to faceplanting as he unsteadily tried to bend over for the keys.

Chapter 2: Sluggish

John was blasting as cold of an air though the car ventilation system as was possible despite his goosebumps and Joe’s half-hearted protests, but by now the older man had figured out that his normally pain in the butt ex colleague was running some astronomically high fever that needed kept in check and John assumed the cold air would also stop Joe being sick in his car again. Making it up to the apartment from the parking lot was time-consuming and taxing, peppered with frequent stops to allow Joe to lean on walls and random fences, or steady himself by putting his palms on his knees if no other support was available. John alternated between being annoyed at the waste of his precious time or bewilderment at himself for having volunteered himself for the job and occasionally there was some concern for the younger man. He had driven the northerner home once before when fairly incapacitated, from the precinct, under completely different circumstances after he just had Joe beaten up on Nathan’s initiative to establish boundaries. They had been at loggerheads back then, yet no good came out of the pounding, including some lingering guilt he felt for the ruthless act. Joe had stayed resolute like he always was, marching away with his head held high, which made the current situation even more concerning. He could walk beaten up to a pulp and with bruised ribs and now he looked really poorly just having to manoeuvre himself through the garage, audience and showing weakness be damned. “What happened to you?” John blurted out. “Have you seen a doctor about this?” 

Joe shook his head, taking another break on the hallway. He searched in his pockets for the keys to the apartment, as if stopping for that, but his shaking hands dropped the item. “It only started the night before.”

“Don’t! Don’t.” The balding man steadied the other, seeing how dangerously close Joe came to faceplanting as he unsteadily tried to bend over for the keys. “I’ll get it.” John assured, waiting with breaking eye contact till his replacement at the company showed some recognition and understanding of his intentions. The boy was disoriented badly, not very surprising given his temperature. “I’m running you a cold bath,” the convict decided as he grabbed onto Joe’s arm to direct him inside the apartment purposefully. When he came back from the bathroom, he found the current Cardiff executive plopped down on his bed, spread out, motionless and comatose. “Hey! You need to cool down first,” he took to pulling the young man’s shoes and socks off, then sat down beside him to pat his cheeks, noting the dry skin burning his fingers. Could’ve been used as a radiator. “Joe. You need to get up or I need to call the paramedics cause sure as hell I’m not about to wash you down by hand.” Shaking his head in displeasure, he went to the refrigerator and retrieved a few blocks of ice and wrapped them in a kitchen towel, then raised Joe’s head a little so he could place the cold item at the back of the ailing man’s neck. 

Joe groaned, but weakly and it took another few pats to his cheek before he acknowledged that he was hailed. “I’m fine, dad. I don’t need more painkillers.” He mumbled. 

John withdrew, taken aback. “I’m just about old enough to be your dad, that’s true, but I’m actually the poor idiot who you managed to oust and land in jail.”

The younger man blinked up at him blearily at that. “John.” 

“I’m glad that definition hits the spot,” the helping businessman said sarcastically, “can you get up?”

“You didn’t need to punch Kenny,” Joe declared on a surprisingly lucid voice, ignoring the question completely, though the glassiness of his eyes was telling of fever. 

“The slimy bastard had been irritating me for years, I was in essence looking for an excuse, so don’t flatter yourself.” John shrugged the idea off, “it felt good at any case. Now come, get up,” he grabbed the other by the arm, trying to encourage him to move.

The sick man didn’t budge, neither physically, or off the topic, “not a good excuse. I am queer, you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” John huffed. The night was getting weirder by the minute, but at least he’d managed to cajole Joe into a sitting position. “And I’ll seriously eat my hat if Cameron’s a man cause she’d pulled that off real good.”

“Cameronsexual,” the reluctant Northener swayed woozily with a nauseous expression on his face, “I am Cameronsexual besides being queer.”

“Horses for courses, as they say,” the smaller man succeeded in pulling the bulkier form onto his feet. He steadied Joe by holding him around his waist, but it took all his might to make the few steps to the thankfully cooler tiles of the bathroom. He was getting sweaty and uncomfortably warm himself with the effort and the closeness to the other’s sweltering body. And then instead of Joe’s sexual orientation, he had to worry about not having him drop head first onto the hard floor as he seemingly intended. “I need you to concentrate. Hold onto the side of the bath,” he let Joe lean down so he could tug the damp, sweat marked pants off him. “We can forget about taking off the rest of your clothes. It might in fact be beneficial if they get wet. Any chance you can climb in?”

“I am capable of taking care of myself,” Joe found his arrogance at the right moment and turned somewhat haphazardly, but successfully to land in the half full tub on his hands and knees. John winced, it must’ve hurt, but at least it wasn’t a forehead that connected with the compact enamel. The younger man however, was focussed on the stark temperature change. Although the water was set to comfortably and not ice cold, Joe hissed, his muscles going rigid before his whole body began shaking violently. 

“It’s better if you sit down. Give it a few minutes, you will feel better, you’ll see,” the older man promised.

Joe glared round, seemingly more alert than just seconds before. His movements were still sluggish and uncoordinated, but at least he understood the need to comply, enough to let himself down to lie on his side, yelping and groaning all the while with an occasional curse word in between. “Good. Good. Are you good?” John checked. “I will get some dry clothes out for you.”

The sick man shook his head. All this movement made his dizziness worse and the cold water shocked his system into wanting to puke. Only there was no way he could get out the bath to the toilet bowl. So he promptly threw up in front of himself into the bathwater. “Oh god. I can let that water down and let clean in. You will still keep cold in the meantime, so that’s good.” His ex boss was trying to convince himself he was in any control over the situation. How did he let himself in this predicament and how worried should he be if the unwell individual in point of fact could be considered his rival, challenger and foe? 

Tbc


	3. Beseeched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there no one else

Chapter 3: Beseeched

John didn’t have any more time. He had been intending to go back home and drop the previously hidden box from the office, but at this rate he would have to turn up at the prison gates straight from Joe’s. At least he had the younger man back to lucid, if not somewhat confused over his ex boss’ unyielding intentions to get him feeling better. Nonetheless the Texan had to let him fall back asleep again on the bed in a dry, clean vest and boxers, somewhat reassured by the knowledge that he had Joe medicated, watered and his temperature reasonably normal. He would probably be all right for a few hours, but it was unlikely a fever like that would go away for good without additional help John would not be able to give. 

The balding man turned the ventilation system high up and closed the bedroom door behind him after a last look at his ex foe’s pale face and wet curls that spread out on the pillow. They would dry soon enough, which is why he had to step over to the telephone. He would’ve had Cameron’s number in his notebook, but he guessed right, it wasn’t needed, Joe had her as one of his speed dial entries written on the top of the phone. 

“What?” Came Cameron’s growly voice, with a lot of background noise and chatter. 

“It’s John here,” he said softly. He was still trying to be discreet, even though he had to make sure the girl heard him above the ruckus.

“Oh. Wait a second. Guys, guys,” she seemed to have turned away from the receiver, “would you shut up for a minute! I wanna take this one.” A different kind of noise could be heard, like shuffling and a door and then the background noise quietened. “Yes. Yes. Any problems? What can I do for you? You’ve heard about Mutiny?” Cameron sounded reluctant, with a wince in her voice. She had no scruples screwing Joe and Gordon over, but John was a different story after what they’ve been through together. But he wasn’t at the company anymore now, was he. 

“Mutiny. No. But somehow I don’t think I will be surprised, right?”

“It’s just me and the guys starting our own business instead of underdog games and outdated trade conventions. We’re not 24hrs old yet though so the determination around here is pretty exalted,” Cameron ruminated amused.

“Ah, I never thought you could be kept boxed in, even vaguely, for long.” John provided. He’d always admired the girl at some level for it, once his irritation with her waned. 

“So a phone call?” The young woman asked pointedly. Not as if any of their conversations happened in a way where someone could listen in, nor could they happen, especially not under current circumstances. 

“This is the last time I am able to call unhindered from the outside. Did you know that Texas prisons are the strictest on phone calls in the entire States?”

“I’ m really sorry about that John,” Cameron offered sincerely. 

“Last time you vaguely mentioned some kind of favour that you wouldn’t mind owing me?”

“That’s right,” she confirmed. 

“What happened to Joe?”

“No idea. I guess he’s no more or less of an arsehole than he normally is?”

“Why is he so depressed and run down?”

“I’ve just taken most of his workforce and dumped him in no uncolourful manner. I should hope it had some effect.”

“Why did you break up with him?”

“John, what the fuck? You have me,” the programmer shook her head confusedly, “I have not the faintest why you would need to know that or why you would care.”

“Because it would tell me whether the favour I’m asking is at all viable.”

“Hm,” Cameron contemplated, “I would rather not see Joe ever again in my life, but if the favour requires me to go up and hand his ass to him, again, well, I’m good at that,” she boasted.

“Why is it again you broke up with him.” John pressed. 

“Because he would choose ensuring the sales of a mediocre computer over changing the world with me. They took my OS out to make it faster.”

John sighed, “I see.” 

“You see? As in you agree, right?” Cameron huffed, “of course you would.”

“It would be the appropriate business decision that decides the survival of the company.” 

“I forget who I’m talking to,” the program writer grunted, “but yeah, okay, can we get to the favour thing?”

“I need you to get over here to Joe’s. I’m quite sure his temperature was around 104 before I managed to bring it down a bit. He was delirious and puking constantly. He thought I was his father. Make sure to bring ibuprofen and ice, a lot of it.”

“Why are you even there? You’ve gotta be kidding me?”

“No. In half an hour, I will be deemed a fugitive if I don’t show up for my sentence. Can I count on you?”

“Is there no one else!” Of course Cameron knew the moment she said those words that there wasn’t. She closed her eyes for a moment in vexation before breathing out, “yeah, yeah, okay. I will be there as soon as I can. You go ahead. I still have a key.”

Tbc


	4. Revenue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe wasn’t at all sure about the effectiveness of the method in soothing his rebelling insides, but he certainly was not going to refuse such a gesture. He leaned into the touch, moaning.

Chapter 4: Revenue

“Shit, shit, shit,” Cameron launched into hurried action the moment she saw him and at the same time understood why John thought her attention was an urgent requirement. 

Joe was deathly pale, lying on his back in a pool of his vomit in a way his ex girlfriend felt the immediate need to check if he was breathing. “Fuck, Joe, what have you done!” She shouted and shook his shoulders before coming to her senses and letting him still so she could feel or see the rise of his chest. It was the heat radiating off him that calmed her first, he was alive, not cold, and then she felt his stomach rise with a breath under her fingers. She waited for the next one, just to be sure, and then emptied the carrier bag she brought with her on John’s advice to retrieve the two large packs of ice that she ripped open with her teeth. Not at all randomly, she placed some ice cubes on strategic positions where major arteries went past: his thighs, his arms, his neck, his stomach, his groins and chest. Joe flinched and then winced and shook with each one, becoming more and more responsive till he peered up, one eye opening lethargically and regarding her contemplatively and woozily. He didn’t look sure of his vision.

“Are you ok?” The programmer pressed, “how did you get this sick? Did you take anything you shouldn’t have?” She speculated.

“I have a fever,” Joe frowned, “how is that an indication of drugs?” He complained hoarsely. Her presence was puzzling but the clogs in his brain didn’t quite turn fast enough for deeper contemplation just now.

“Maybe not, but they can be a sign of poisoning or an overdose.” She reasoned.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the executive frowned at her, “you thin I’d go kill myself over ye?” He was slurring, but it was comprehensible.

“I’m glad you’re not,” Cameron established, “sit up a bit, I need to change your pillow case at least.”

He searched around himself disoriented, then rolled on his side to prop himself up on an arm, “wouldn’t that be too domesticated for you?”

“Joe.” The woman put a palm under his cheek just in time to stop him from swooning back down. She’d planned to help him sit, but he basically collapsed forwards into her lap and arms instead. “Joe.” She smoothed his sweat curled hair out his forehead, “what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” 

“The flu?” He presumed. Though he didn’t think his swimming head would cooperate if she would’ve wanted him to move out her arms. It was rather pleasant there at any case.

“How did this start?”

“Stomach ache.” Joe provided, not very comprehensive. 

“When?”

Joe’s look was hesitant. He didn’t particularly care to remember that part of his life. “The day before yesterday.”

“Before you came to see me?” Cameron was unwavering in her interrogation.

Joe gave a groaning affirmative, “not long before. It feels like the flu,” he established, having had enough of her cross-examination. What did she care for anyway?

“Headache, muscle and joint aches, blocked sinuses?”

“Uhm.” He just wanted to sleep.

“Are you sure? Cause with this fever you could have meningitis or blood poisoning or peritonitis? Though I can’t see a rash and you can obviously turn your head. Is your stomach still sore?” Cameron embraced him so that she could manoeuvre his hulk of a body to the other, clean side of the bed, lying him down on his side so he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit.

“Yes?” Joe answered compliantly, his illness making him meek enough to play along. 

“Tell me how sore it is,” she placed a palm on his belly and started pressing it randomly here and there. 

“Not very,” he grimaced, bamboozled by the whole occurrence of this unlikely angel in his bedroom. 

“No, I don’t think you have an acute abdomen. Probably just the flu then, but we will have to keep an eye on any changes,” she established, picking up the dirty pillow with careful fingers and trying to dispose of the case without touching the bile. “I’ll deal with that as soon as we get you settled. We need to keep you hydrated and your temperature down.”

“You doctor?” He mumbled, eyes closing.

“Other than it all being common sense? Nerd. Nothing but reading to do before machine whispering came along.” Cameron popped an ice cube into his mouth. “Don’t you choke on it or I’ll kill you.” She rearranged the ice that fell off him when moving and added a few extra at his neck and under his armpits. “You should be ok, just need to ride it out,” the programmer assured, though it wasn’t clear if she was talking to her ex boyfriend or herself. “Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”

Joe tried to contemplate an answer, though his head felt heavy and his thoughts jumbled as if they would’ve been in the washing machine. Most of all, he wanted to know why she was there, if she was a hallucination and if it meant anything that she came to his aid when he really needed it. But getting into that seemed like a major upheaval in his current condition so he just said, “I wanna sleep, but my stomach won’t settle.”

“Okay,” Cameron took the predicament in, “I think I’ve seen some Alka Selzer in your cabinet the other day? It’s actually a good idea cause it will hydrate and it’s also a pain killer besides an antacid. We’ll see if a few sips of that will do the trick. We’ll be back in a minute, okay?” She left to prepare the solution. 

The Northerner hazily listened to the noises of her moving around, steps, opening doors, filling a cup, for much more he did not have the liveliness for. A blinding headache and a cramping stomach was taking enough of his attention. Dazed, he was a bit surprised when the bed dipped beside him and Cameron’s nimble fingers cupped his cheek and went under his neck to help him up to the cup. He grunted, but obeyed docilely, taking as many sips as he was offered. 

“Alright. It will take a few till it starts working.” She let him curl back into himself, “but I’ve got this till it does.” Joe yelped silently, he felt cold covering his entire abdomen as a towel was pressed to his belly. “Better?” Cameron’s voice came from realty close and he could feel the bed shifting as she came even closer and rubbed the cloth up and down his abdomen a little. 

Joe wasn’t at all sure about the effectiveness of the method in soothing his rebelling insides, but he certainly was not going to refuse such a gesture. He leaned into the touch, moaning. “It’s good,” he declared. Whether it was the comfort offered or his fever, but he was out for the count within seconds, his breathing calming and slowing.

Tbc


	5. Emerging Materialism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His memories were hazy, but he elusively remembered her hands on him, soothing his brow, rubbing his tummy, waking him up on more than one occasion to coax a few mouthfuls of bread into him before his medication, or to force some water down his throat.

Chapter 5: Emerging Materialization

There was no haze around his head and Joe found the clearness and lucidity bizarrely disorientating at first. But he eventually figured that if he was feeling better, his body didn’t shake and ache and the queasiness seemed to arise from his stomach being empty, then he should maybe do something about it. He opened his eyes to a comfortable amount of light streaming in from the blinds and he found, surprised, that moving his head did not result in his temples being wrought in iron, neither elicit dizziness or nausea. Lying on his side, the resurfacing man was shirtless, his bottom half being covered with a light sheet. It didn’t feel like he had anything under and right enough, when he raised the sheet, his flaccid dick peeked up at him. Joe bit the inside of his lip, somewhat flustered. Not that he was in any way prude, other than making sure he concealed his extensive scarring in public, but Cameron handling him while he was unconscious somehow felt wrong. She had given up the right to that, didn’t she? Yet there she was, in the line of his vision, conked out in one of the armchairs she must’ve hauled in from the living room, her hair messy and her clothes haphazard. Joe stared at her for a while, perplexed. His memories were hazy, but he elusively remembered her hands on him, soothing his brow, rubbing his tummy, waking him up on more than one occasion to coax a few mouthfuls of bread into him before his medication, or to force some water down his throat. The rest was rather foggy, were there other people there too at one point? No matter, he was better now, so he should take care of himself and of that urge in his bladder. Sitting up went surprisingly well, even if his arms felt weak when he pushed himself up, but when he set his bare feet down the floor, the world seemed to jolt and he could only stop the spinning of the globe with a groan. 

Those well familiar hands were on his arms once more, Cameron steadying him, her voice raspy with sleep, “where are you going? Do you need the bathroom again?”

Joe blinked, confounded. Again? Yes, he did remember her helping him get there before, now that she mentioned it. He focussed to gain renewed effort and pushed himself to his feet, intending to shake her off, but he found his legs shaky and weak, his head light and his stomach lurching. So he did lean on her, finding the situation rather curious and incomprehensible.

“Do you want the seat down or up?” The question confused him even more, and it must’ve been showing on his face because she took to explain, “do you need to puke, piss or shit?” Cameron asked brutally directly. 

“Uhm..piss?” He raised his eyebrows at her while she led him to the sink to lean on and raised the seat for him. Were the above options things he had been doing in front of her?

“That’s good,” she gave him a little, emboldening and relieved smile, “though the doctor did say your tummy will settle last. As long as you don’t have trouble breathing and your fever breaks, which it did, we don’t have to worry.”

“The doctor?” He echoed while relieving himself at length. 

“You probably don’t remember the doctor,” she acknowledged, “you were at your worst then. Which is why we got someone out for a home visit when we couldn’t get your temperature down. We couldn’t find your health insurance anywhere so it seemed the best option at the time. You did say you had no money. We were so worried, you can’t imagine.”

“Who is we?” Joe solicited, turning to the tap to wash his hands and wet his face. Now that he was up, he felt like he could manage it. He hoped there was something edible in the apartment. He still had to deal with her peculiar presence after finding out what went down.

“Me, Gordon and Donna?” Cameron blustered. “Of course you won’t remember that either, it’s not as if you gave any intelligible answers when we tried to ask you about your insurance.”

“I have insurance,” he established. 

“Oh well, that’s great,” the young woman grumbled, “but Gordon’s already paid for the consultation so whatever.”

“I will call him at the office to clear things up,” he offered. He intended to set off towards the kitchen, but now that he was walking on his own, it did seem quite a tedious engagement. His bed was a lot closer, so he decided upon that.

“It’s Sunday, dickhead,” Cameron dissed.

“Sunday?” He looked up at her incredulously from the edge of his bed. “That means…” He tried to count, but in truth of fact he didn’t even remember what day it was when he fell ill.

“Yeah. You were basically passed out for three days. The doctor said you had both the flu and a stomach flu too, separately. Nice goings, Joe, congrats on the achievement. How are you feeling?”

“I don’t feel like I’ve been out for three days.”

“That’s good I guess? How is your stomach?”

Joe’s forehead creased in confusion. Why would Cameron behave like this? Why would she care? Nevertheless, he placed a hand on the aching organ, assessing its condition. “It hurts,” he acknowledged honestly.

“Do you want to lie back down? I’m going to get you some bread and water, your medication is due.”

“Bread and water? Like an eighteenth century prisoner?” He mused.

“It was the best option for someone in your state?” The prodigy retorted, “you want it or not?”

“Cameron I…” Joe started, emotions all over the place. He didn’t like it when he wasn’t in control, but the young woman just kept messing him up. “Does this mean you changed your mind? About us?” 

The blonde paused, frowning, “just let me get your pills Joe. I don’t think that’s a conversation you should be getting yourself into right now.” The whiz kid offered liberally. This was not the time to be cruel or vindictive, she would acknowledge that much. He didn’t have anybody to take care of him, so it made sense that she stepped in, for the sake of what they have had in the past, if not for anything else. 

“So you didn’t change your mind.” Joe finally lay back, closing his eyes. He wasn’t going to fight his body’s wishes to rest, not when there was no point. Cameron shrugged, not giving it one more thought. She was behind with her modulation scheme that would enable a speed of 2400 bit/s, but she could at least think about the symbol set while she got what Joe needed and then maybe she could go back to calculating error rates if he settles down.

Tbc


	6. Sideways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tenderness be damned as not his style, Joe sat up to grab hold of her and pull her down atop of him with a hungry kiss, pressing her to himself with his usual strength, turning her on with that electrical switch he knew very well how to flick.

Chapter 6: Sideways

Cameron stayed another two days during which Joe made sure not to ask any important questions. The answer was obvious from her behaviour, there was no need to reiterate the apparent and certainly painful reality. They barely made eye contact while she accompanied him on his minuscule trips throughout the apartment, took his temperature, fed him, washed him, provided unsolicited belly rubs when she noticed his discomfort till it became clear that he was self-reliant enough for the awkwardness between them to outweigh the need to make sure he was recovering and not relapsing due to his inability to take care of himself. 

The programming mastermind didn’t have to announce her departure either, they both felt it coming in advance when it became imminent. Tension was thick in the air and it was a miracle neither of them blew up with it so far. So she simply stuffed her change of clothes, notes and a small amount of other personal belongings into her rucksack and paused to stand over Joe as he lay in his bed, still convalescent. “Promise me something,” Cameron stated seriously.

Joe glanced at her curious and expectant, with a slight frown. “The doctor who came to see you,” she started, “he said something about your immune system being definitely weak. Promise me you go get seen for some blood tests.”

He leant up on an elbow, abruptly animated, “do you think I would endanger you?” He spat irately, “after Simon, I got tested. I’m clean,” he established irritably. 

“That’s not what I meant!” Cameron exploded as well, “I knew the chances were slim! Pardon me for worrying about you there for a minute,” she rolled her eyes, ready to go. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few ideas to make into reality,” she ranted sarcastically. “Your medication is due in 2 hours and your cold compress, about now,” she picked the handtowel used for the purpose out the bowl with cold water, threw it at him from a few feet away and turned to march into his living area to pick up her bag.

“Cameron.” He called after her. “If you get stuck again, you know, I’m here.” Perhaps his part in the creative process was petite, but he felt the need to point out he had one.

The blonde looked back at that, judging his intent. Not all that building tension between them was on the warpath after all, some of it was certainly on a collision course of the sexual nature. Moreover, both of them worked on the same psychological principle as far as sex was concerned: while it certainly solved nothing and meant nothing, it was a coping mechanism and a way of dissipating pressure, dissolving tension. Cameron made the first dance-back step hesitantly, “I haven’t been stuck for a long time,” she established her own worth, but entered the game by picking up the piece of wet cloth that fell on the floor to where it bounced back from being thrown at him, “let me set this for you,” she teased, indicating her own intentions of not minding some meaningless sex. It wouldn’t change anything, right? Not their power struggle, their stances or the status of their relationship. She wet the cloth renewed and raised his shirt to slip the item under. Her hand remained on his stomach after, trailing down to delicately finger the hills round his bellybutton as if it were a spontaneous, unconscious move and idly let her skin be ticked by the fine hairs of his happy trail, the feel eliciting a slow, reminiscent smile from her.

Tenderness be damned as not his style, Joe sat up to grab hold of her and pull her down atop of him with a hungry kiss, pressing her to himself with his usual strength, turning her on with that electrical switch he knew very well how to flick. With quintessential urgency, he devoured her lips open-mouthed, kissed and nibbled her jaw, her tender ear lobes, the side of her neck. 

When he promptly pulled her t shirt off her, it wasn’t the cold that made her shiver. Her fingers seized and embedded themselves in his back as he raised his head to swirl his tongue around her nipples, push his face between her breasts, take the medallion of her necklace between his teeth roguishly and suck it into his mouth while looking up at her teasingly. He used the item of jewellery to pull her down further atop of him. Cameron laughed at his efforts. It was good to see the old Joe surfacing. Not that her lover left her much chance for conscious thought and perhaps that was the trick, why it was so expedient having sex with him if she needed inspiration. Having stopped thinking, her brain always booted in a different manner from previous afterwards, giving her the chance to look at things from another perspective.

His hands were never idle. While holding her firm with one arm, his other hand cupped her cheek, his fingers stroked the sensitive skin on the back of her neck, then roamed down her spine, stroking up and down till he could reach into her trousers. He continued to fondle her there, pulling the buttcheeks apart and sliding down so he could slip a finger round and plunge it teasingly into her love cave, making her buck with desire. 

The blond barely managed to blow out the air, immobilized by the degree of want Joe elicited. He was good at this, there was no doubt about it. Her body will buzz and hum and purr and vibrate as he plays it, like an instrument. Even though she decided on the action, she could do no more than writhe in desire as she reached for him, moving down to free his cock from his convalescent sweatpants to find with confused surprise, a flaccid, drooping member. Her fingers traced it on instinct, wondering if she could get him started, but it simply slid out her fist to plop back down lifelessly. Her questioning look and disappointment she was unable to hide. 

“I’m not feeling well,” Joe winced, excusing himself. “Maybe you could help?” He posed tentatively, even though it was him that primarily pleased the other as a rule, not the other way round. 

Cameron contemplated the situation, looking him in the eyes. “We shouldn’t have started. You’re still sick,” she decided, the moment gone and dusted. She had served him enough lately. “Take care Joe,” she rose, collected her t shirt and carried on with her previous plans as if nothing had happened. 

Tbc


	7. 1984

Chapter 7: 1984

“Clark.” Donna managed to pick up her home phone at the third ring, having been sitting reading quite close. It was marvellous having so much free time to catch up on the newest technology magazines. She had several development ideas based on what she had read too, she just didn’t know through what media would she be able to have them materialise.

“Hey, it’s Cameron here,” a more hesitant voice started than how the engineer remembered the younger woman’s voice. “Look, Donna, I’m in a little dilemma here. Do you have any idea why Gordon would send me an invite to the office party to celebrate the launch of The Giant? It’s his name on the envelope, but was it him even?”

Donna laughed, “I didn’t think he would take my advice. Yes, I think it was him. I told him he should since you had an important part in its creation. Are you planning to pop by?”

“Uhm, no. How is Joe?”

“He’s getting better, I think.”

“Getting better? What do you mean? His illness was months ago!”

“Mm,” Donna faltered, “he hasn’t really been all that well since. He tried to go back to work, probably too quickly, twice and then was off for another few weeks. I haven’t heard Gordon mentioning the issue for a while though, so he must be better. Although not as if my frenzied husband pays much attention to Joe.”

“Have you not seen him lately?” Cameron interrogated further, suddenly feeling guilty for abandoning her ex boyfriend at such an inopportune moment as she did. Of course Gordon would not pay attention, he would not pay attention to anyone, but Donna’s instincts she would trust. 

“Not lately. A few weeks ago when I swung by the office.”

“And what was your impression? Has he seen a doctor?”

Donna sighed, “you should ask him. You obviously still care,” she ventured, both women being equally straight forward.

“It would be rather awkward if I did that out of the blue. Not to mention complicate things. He might assume there’s more to it than there is. Like last time,” Cameron mentally rolled her eyes.

Donna gave another longsuffering sigh. “He has lost some weight, noticeably. But I know for a fact he has seen a doctor about the stomach aches because I personally drove him there on one occasion a couple of months back when Gordon asked me to as Joe took ill at the office.”

“Again?” The younger woman freaked.

“It was just a temporary thing, nowhere near as bad as when you had to stay with him,” Donna pacified. “In my opinion, if you really want to know, I think his biggest problem is depression. He acts so passive, quiet, without energy. He’s not the Joe we first met, by lightyears.”

Cameron blew the air into the receiver loudly on the other end, “I probably shouldn’t have asked.”

“Not if you didn’t want to know, no. But I guess you were hoping for a different, more liberating answer?”

“But he’s getting better, right?” The blond convinced herself, “you said? And it’s not like I’m responsible for his health.” Not receiving a response, she added, “wait, you think I am responsible in some way, don’t you?”

“Success at COMDEX should’ve been a fête, and it was like a funeral for all of us. And while me and Gordon bounced back and mended fences, it feels like Joe is still sitting in a corner mourning. I’m not saying it’s your fault, but it has at least inadvertently have something to do with you.”

“I thought you were a feminist as well, Donna,” Cameron retorted, “I’m not going to make life choices based on mollycoddling a guy’s ego!” 

“I never said you should. I was presenting facts,” the engineer established. 

“Whatever,” the younger woman have had enough of the conversation as it wasn’t going her way, “can I ask you something? Could you let me know if he gets sick again? I don’t know if I would do anything, but I just need to know for some reason,” Cameron battled with herself. 

“Perhaps that reason is that you love him,” Donna suggested, “sometimes there’s no logical explanation why we love these endearing idiots, we simply do.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just call me, okay?”

tbc


	8. Hey

Chapter 8: Hey

“Donna said I would find you out here,” Cameron’s unmistakable deep voice piped up from behind Joe. “Despite the fact that I had doubts cause I can’t say she was coherent,” she tittered a little, shaking her head somewhat fondly, “responsible house wife she is. Though I think she will probably have enough brain cells left to spare some.”

Joe turned back towards her, paling somewhat. She stood there in the most formal clothes he had ever seen her in-a knee length red dress that favoured her figure. How will he drive the truck away if he’s constantly being manmarked even now when he thought everybody was away? “What do you want?” He barked. “What are you doing here?”

Cameron narrowed her eyes at him, “I have a feeling I should ask those questions. Why are you out here on your own staring at a truck at midnight?”

“I like to be alone,” he highlighted, “it’s my natural state.”

“Yes, that is true, mostly, but that’s not it,” she frowned as she contemplated, “I had a bad feeling about this.”

“You ran over to Cardiff in the middle of the night because you had a bad feeling?” Joe goaded sarcastically, “likely story.”

“No. I was invited to the party.” 

“Party’s long over.”

“Okay, I got dressed for the party, but wasn’t sure if I should bother setting off. In the end, I came over because if I think about it for even one minute, everything clicks into place. You are unwell, you just finalised a project you had been working very hard on, but you’re not quite happy with the outcome and unhappy in general, yep, that rings a bell, your father talked about it and a certain accidental flooding of facilities. And I keep thinking about that little story you told us on the way to Vegas when everybody sat flummoxed why, the one with the people competing and the winner setting a ship on fire at midnight on some island? I looked it up, Viking Fire Festival is it? So, where are we burning this thing? That shit deserves to finally halt and catch fire.”

A slow smile spread on his face, “Pecan Valley. I have the oil hidden by Turnberry Drive.”

“Well, what are you waiting for!” Cameron urged him, closing up to him now that he wasn’t projecting hostility anymore. With a pleased smirk, he watched her move as she joined her and he didn’t take his marvelling eyes off her when they climbed up to the front seat either. She was the same predictably inventive and perfectly unpredictable person he fell in love with. She essentially had to nudge him out of his reverie to kick-start him. The blond looked elated, happy to do something criminal as opposed to Joe, who had been up to her arrival, going through the motions calmly, acting on an instinct that told him destruction was an appropriate way to try and close this part of his life, help forgetting about it and start anew. Now that Cameron joined him however, he wasn’t so sure. Her excitement was catchy and perhaps not everything had to be over. “How is Mutiny working out for you?” He tested the waters, breaking the awkward silence. 

“We’re fully operational. Thousands of subscibers.” She prided herself in the fact, “maybe you should come see it. Taking phone calls while I’m designing software can be kind of distracting.”

“You want me to pick up your phones?” Joe raised his eyebrows, “like a receptionist?”

“Most of the phone calls are about sales. Are you not the expert?”

Joe snorted, amused, “you’re actually offering me a job if I hear it correctly. Funny.”

“Didn’t you say you would accept working with me in any set up I saw fit?” She reproved complacently.

The tall man regarded her suspiciously as much as his attention, that had to be mainly on the road, allowed. “Why the sudden change of heart? You’ve talked to Donna, right? What’s she been telling you?” He spat angrily, “that I am a pitiable farce with too many health issues to even get to work consistently? I have plans that involve none of you after this.” Just because she offered him an olive branch, it didn’t mean he had a chance with her, not enough to thwart and make him forget his intentions to find his mother, and most importantly the reasons behind it. He can’t be that whipped for Cameron, he needs to keep his self respect. He had begged enough at her front door. 

Cameron groaned, “your next move is to disappear, right? I simply just not like that prospect, that’s the reason.” She grit her teeth, angry, though she wasn’t quite sure why she should be angry if Joe decided to leave. “And because I knew you wouldn’t mind working for free,” she added to ease the tension.

“No.” The answer was firm, but came with no explanation.

The blond took some time to take that in, studying his profile while she was at it. He had lost weight indeed so the suit was a little too big for him now and she was quite sure it wasn’t the scarce lighting that made him look pale, but with dark circles under his eyes. They too lost some of their sparkles. Donna was right about his demeanour too, there was no spring in his step or determination in his stance. “Are you sick, Joe?”

“Not that kind of sick,” he assured her once more about sexually transmittable diseases. “And that is not why I want to leave, despite your charitable offer,” Joe made a gesture similar to rolling eyes.

“It’s not charity,” Cameron dismissed, “you happen to have a useful skillset.” She tried to dig herself out the hole she had made with her harsh words on different occasions.

“I thought you said I was utterly useless.”

“I never said that. I said you couldn’t create anything new and that you had no ideas of your own.”

“Sure. Because that sounds a lot better,” Joe retorted.

“Are you sick?” Cameron repeated the question, ignoring the argument so that she could get back to what she really wanted to know.

“I just have some stomach ulcers, no biggie,” he sighed at her insistence. He swerved the truck off the road onto the dirt and drove on purposefully. “The flu didn’t really sit well with them you know.”

“Those can be dangerous. You need to take it seriously and take care of yourself,” the young woman held. “Will you do that while you’re away? Will you at least check in? Phone calls, a post card, that kind of thing? You should set up an email account.” 

Joe killed the engine and climbed out, disregarding her, leaving her to follow at will. Cameron almost bumped into him when he turned on his heels by the bushes and handed her one of the containers sitting there filled with gasoline. The fun was about to start.

Tbc


	9. Diversion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cameron’s eyes widened, the white flash of his straining, hard erection tantalising in the pale light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse the pie thing. I couldn't help it.

Chapter 9: Diversion

The fire engines’ sirens could be heard far reaching on the dry prairie, classed as endangered for being fire prone, so the two incendiaries were making sure they were getting well out of dodge, running towards Benbrook Lake where Joe’s own car was apparently parked, far away from the site of the crime. The adrenalin rush of the run made Cameron dizzy with exhilaration and exceedingly amused, she had to stop to laugh at times, slowing them down and exasperating Joe, but she had to admit she hadn’t had so much fun in years. She just wished she had her normal trousers to run in, not an inane dress, but that made the scampering even more funny, along with the pure fact of her even wearing a dress. It probably didn’t cover much of her legs and behind, with it flapping up with every jump. Joe would probably have a great view of the Marilyn Monroe effect from the back. The blonde was curious about whether he was checking her out and glanced back, only to have difficulties spotting the other fugitive. She halted and turned and could now see the tall man further back, hunched over and panting, a hand on a knee to balance himself and the other clapped over his mouth. Cameron jogged back over, uneasy, her own adrenalin induced giddiness starting to dissipate, “Joe? Are you okay? Going to puke?”

Her ex boyfriend was taking big breaths to calm himself. “Trying not to.”

“I don’t think anybody is looking for us. And even if there were, we are far enough now,” Cameron ascertained. “Hey,” she stepped to the side of him and held on to his arm to steady him, “why don’t you sit down?”

Joe nodded, looking a little green as he accepted the offered hand as they plopped down on their back sides, somewhere in a secluded part of a well kept golf course. He rubbed his sweaty forehead into his shirt sleeves, not minding the pristine white getting spoiled forever. Cameron placed a tentative hand on his back in sympathy, “how far is the car?”

“About a ten minutes walk, across the creek,” he estimated. Giving up on further advancements completely, he lay back on the grass , holding his stomach. 

“I’m not in a hurry,” she assured him, “take your time.”

“I’m fine,” Joe grumbled, but made no move to get up.

They lay in silence for a while, Joe working on getting his nausea under control and Cameron leaning on an elbow beside him, watching. Her fingers played with the grass idly, but it was him she would’ve wanted to touch, assure she was there if he needed her, at least for the time being the present. Eventually the programmer reached out on an impulse, she couldn’t fine well watch the little rubbing motions his hand made on his stomach and not feel the need to take over. “How is that tummy?” She placed her palm on his abdomen, then slid it down to sneak it under his shirt.

“It’s not that bad just now, actually,” he maintained, glancing her at her with uncertainty. Her whole showing up and offering to work together was confusing him. “The question still stands. What do you want? From me.”

“My big boy?” Cameron sidled closer in no uncertain terms, hand continuing to massage round his navel. 

“So you want your pie and eat it too? Everything on your terms, right?” He said harshly.

“Well, I guess you can’t live with that,” she pulled her hand back. Joe caught it mid-air and pulled it towards him, not to his stomach, but lower, “perchance not, but my dick has other ideas.”

Cameron grinned madly, eyes twinkling playfully in anticipation. It had been a good few months since she’d had a good fuck, well, exactly the time that had passed since before COMDEX. She leaned over him, hesitating only a little, “are you sure you’re not gonna puke all over me or something?” She voiced genuine concerns over his wellbeing in an overt manner. 

“I haven’t had sex on a golf course before,” he pulled her on top of himself, “also, it has never been so easy to undress you,” he tugged at her red number and managed to remove it completely with one hand to discard to the side. 

Her frisky fingers were on his fly, then pushed his shirt up to reveal the flat expanse of his stomach. “Where does it hurt?” She leaned close, lips hovering half an inch above his abdomen as she looked up at him.

“Just above my belly button,” he gave a distracted answer, his own fingers tangled in her hair as he willed her to touch him. She started kissing him around the indicated area first, but got quickly distracted by the dark outlines of his nipples. She licked one and pinched the other, desire intensifying with every move. She needed him to take her, there and then, she had no margin of tolerance for any more waiting time. Her mouth travelled higher, trailing a tongue across the long scar on his chest, then the little ones close to his clavicles and then went up his throat to capture his lips in a hard, desperate, demanding kiss, nipping, biting, devouring, forgetting to breathe, her body pressed against him. Strong arms encircled her, pulling her even closer, however impossible that may have seemed given their current position. Cameron wasn’t sure if it was a moan or a whimper that she heard coming from him, but it sounded out of place enough for her to pause, and realise she was sitting right atop of his abdomen and that his eyes were closed and he was biting his lip, “am I hurting you?”

“It’s a good hurt,” he drew her back and Cameron quickly became aware of his solid, hot length making its presence known against her thigh, inviting and tempting. She moaned and pressed herself against it, body rocking on impulse. Nothing will stop them this time from the hurricane their intimate encounters tended to be.

In similar urgent need, Joe flipped them over vehemently to give himself room for manoeuvre and freed himself of his trousers, breathing erratic and full with want. Cameron’s eyes widened, the white flash of his straining, hard erection tantalising in the pale light. Her hands went for it on their own accord, wanting to touch, make the vision reality. She stroked it slowly, almost reverently, as if it would’ve been some sort of relic. Not having that marvel inside her was almost painful. Her hips lifted and her legs spread involuntarily, her panties noticeably wet when his fingers teased and rubbed and circled through the fabric before he discarded the unnecessary clothing item. It made her breathe heavy and her fingernails dig into his wide back. “No more foreplay,” she begged, voice breaking. It has been so long, too long, since she had been able to entangle her fingers in that messy, sweaty hair of his. She would use those dark locks to pull him down again. It was now his cock that teased her, its hardness teasing her entry, but not yet inside her…”Joe…” She writhed. 

Later, when they both lay on their backs on the grass, gazing at the stars in the pleasant afterglow of their lovemaking, spent and contented to live in the moment, Cameron reached out to entangle her fingers in his. “You will come back, right? After doing whatever it is you need to go away for,” she asked softly, expectantly.

The End.


End file.
